The Seeker's Observations
by Lover of Video Games
Summary: Cassandra loved to watch him fight. Well, fight didn't really do what he did justice. Valaaras wasn't a warrior; he was a force of nature. A simple one-shot about what the Seeker has noticed about the Inquisitor. M! Qunari Inquisitor.


**AN: Hey all, Lover of Video Games here! For those of you who've read my other work, welcome back. For those who are only just joining us, hello! Anyway, I got Dragon Age: Inquisition last week the day it came out, and I've already put thirty hours into it. I can tell I'm not even close to finishing it either and I love it! I especially love both the animations, and Cassandra. She is lovely, and I chose to romance her, and... I don't know, she's kind of an Inquisitor fangirl, as you find out through dialogue options, and I just sort of came up with the idea of her observing him, how he fights, how he moves, how he interacts with the people he meets. This is the quickly-written product of that foray, and I really hope you guys like it. Please let me know if I made any stupid grammar mistakes, what you liked, what you didn't like, all that standard stuff. Thank you.**

**Enjoy!**

**P.S. For those of you who are aware of its existence, I'll actually be updating Morrigan: Do's and Don'ts soon! Holy crap, right? :D**

Cassandra loved to watch him fight.

Well, fight didn't really do what he did justice. Valaaras was not a warrior; he was a force of nature. He did not simply engage in combat; he swept through like a tide. She had seen him face down Templars, terrors, an envy demon, a _Maker-forsaken dragon, _and everything in between, and he never seemed to falter, always alert, always in control.

If one had never met a Qunari before, one might think them rather barbaric. There were all those tales, yes, of the massive ox-men sweeping in with their massive battle-axes and their strange tongue and their ridiculous religion, all bluster and aggression on the battlefield, in the heat of the moment; and indeed, there were some Qunari like that, Iron Bull being a prime example. But Valaaras, the Inquisitor… he defied all of this. He didn't care much for two-handed weapons, for one thing. She'd only seen him use one once, and only for about an hour. He'd then sighed and sheathed the blade, bringing out his preferred weapons, the sword and shield. And with these two things, he was a monster, a tide of destruction no one could stand against for long.

His sheer size was one important factor, along with his physique, his entire body rippling with muscle, no excess fat anywhere to be seen, as she'd seen when he wore finer clothing, the corded muscle easily visible. The power he put behind his blows was enough to stagger all but the most stalwart opponent. And what was really impressive about it, was that it wasn't wild swings, not at all. Every blow seemed to have been planned twenty seconds before it was even executed, each individual swing, parry, thrust, and block designed to go right where it needed to go, all the time. Cassandra had no idea how he did it, but she suspected he'd had _far _too much practice for one lifetime. She also figured he didn't put nearly all his strength into it, for if he did, he might simply cleave his opponents in two, and Valaaras was not that kind of man. She had some sort of idea of his true strength, though; she'd once watched him and Bull arm wrestle for a solid half hour before the pale gray Qunari had simply given up.

And the way he _moved… _oh, what a sight to see. One wouldn't think that a man at least seven feet tall would be able to move how he did. Arrows were almost no object to him, multiple enemies a triviality to weave through in order to reach his goal. Even his smallest actions were a sight to see; the way he swerved to avoid a blade, the bend of his elbow, a quick wiping of sweat off his brow, were all somehow masterworks, no energy or movement wasted. The Inquisitor was not one for fancy swordplay. And yet, the _creativity _with which he sometimes killed was remarkable! One time… one time the insane bastard had _used his horns to snap someone's blade. _She remembered seeing him dropping to one knee, the Templar's blade descending, her screaming his name, and then the blade was destroyed in seconds. Valaaras had turned that man's face into mulch.

He wasn't perfect, of course. Sometimes he got too passionate about something, or rushed into far too many demons without waiting for everyone else to get ready, so confident in his abilities that he forsook caution. It was fortunate Solas was usually around to blast enemies off him, and that Varric's prized "Bianca" had such fine aim. But it was amazing how little this actually happened, considering the sheer volume of enemies they faced. Remarkable.

Valaaras was not only a warrior, though, for the Inquisitor should be more specialized than that. He was more skilled than one might think at manipulating people and rallying soldiers under his banner. He was straight-backed, dignified, and while he was quite the joker when it was just him and his inner circle, when the time came to play politics, he wasted no words or resources on anything he didn't see panning out. It was very frustrating at times, she had to admit, for his decisions didn't always make sense to her, but it was also admirable, the assuredness with which he made decisions that rocked the world. She knew in her heart that she would not be able to do the same.

And yet, all these things seemed not to plague him. Deep down, his heart was always in the right place, and he did much of what he did not for himself, but for others. She'd seen him in the gardens on several occasions, speaking with the other people there, tending to his own little garden, or simply enjoying being in the space. Such a contrast from how we was in the thick of combat, and still just as natural to him.

Truly, the Maker could not have sent them a better person for the job, if He really had. Strong, confident, handsome, gentle when needed… and then there was her. The Seeker who was so brash, so unsure, who intimidated people around her and acted before she thought things through. She admired him so much. How had someone like the Inquisitor taken this apparent shine to her, taking her on all his forays? She hadn't the faintest idea, but she was glad he did. If nothing else, she got to talk to him, spend time with him. And that was enough for her.


End file.
